Irresistible Chopped Caprese(ish) Salad, made with heirloom tomatoes

As you know, my fair and gentle reader, I live to grow heirloom and artisan tomatoes. Whoops . . . I mean I loveto grow them (hehee). They are gorgeous, delicious, colorful and . . . yet . . . so . . . so prone to splitting after the night that you get a soaking 3.5″ of rain, all at once. (Kersploosh! is the sound of that sudden rainfall, that wakes one from a sound sleep to wonder at the state of the basement: dry or puddly?)

Doggonit. On the splitting, that is.

Here in Nebraska, after all, we are accustomed to arid conditions much of the time. (Drought is the state of Nebraska’s middle name.) Arid-ish, that is. But things are different this year. Most years, for example, 3.5″ of rain is a Big Event, worthy of much discussion and hand-wringing at the coffee shop the morning after. Actually, it’s so unusual that folks remember a rain like that and talk about it for a long time afterwards.

We buy umbrellas. We castigate ourselves for not owning a decent raincoat.

Two of my forebears driving horses and wagon across a bare field. This landscape obviously is more often arid than puddly. (photo thanks to the geneology-preserving efforts of Diane Young Decker)

But this year, we’ve had several such soggy events. It changes the way you think, to have adequate moisture. You ponder (at least) buying a decent raincoat (even if you then decide against it). Your daily plans (as a gentleman/lady farmer) do not revolve around which plantings you want to keep alive this day with your watering regimen. No. You muse over matters like which plantings you want to keep alive by bailing out puddles.

Our oldest son Matthew has been on my mind a lot lately, as he has started a new job, is daddy to a new baby girl with his wife Rachel, and has moved to a new place–all three events within weeks of one another–and who also has a birthday this week. He has a lot on his plate. He lives in an area in Missouri that regularly receives a lot more rain than we do, and recently pointed out to me the fact that–while we do have our share of meddlesome insects here–since Nebraska is part of the High Plains, we don’t usually have wet enough conditions to be bothered overmuch by mosquitoes.

I hadn’t really thought about this, but it is (happily) true, most years. Not this year. We had some biggish rains in the late summer–which is why it’s still lush and green here, and why we are still mowing our lawns every week, though it’s October. Amazing!

Also, apparently this is why the mosquitoes are as big as hummingbirds, and as mean and creepy and persistent as . . . as. . . daleks.

(Let me know in the comments if you get that reference–you’ll know what show little Mack is enamoured with right now!)

And (by the way) you oughta hear us HOWL about it. The everpresent mosquitoes, that is, not the daleks. (Although I would pitch a fit if I heard a dalek in my vicinity. They can stay . . . wherever they are right now, which is–happily–not on the High Plains. As far as I know.)

Our reaction to mosquitoes: Must we--why the!–what th--heeeelllppp! The MOSQUITOES are driving us NUTS…!!!*fading screaming as victim runs to shelter, hungry clouds of mosquitoes in clear pursuit*

Physiographic devisions of the U.S., map courtesy of Wikipedia. See, there we are in the middle, in the brownish area–the High Plains. The tan color signifies lack of mosquitoes (and moisture).

I contend that we High Plains folks have a point here (bless our hearts). After all. We have to put up with so much already: tornadoes, summer storms that destroy roofs with hail and wind (although the fact that so many of us have new roofs paid for by our insurance companies, given the prevalence of damage in summer storms, is a consolation, to be sure), winter blizzards that are capable of knocking out our electricity for days at a time (not to mention freezing our tenderest extremities off), and punishing humidity and heat during the summer. And did I mention the wind? The daily, constant wind?

Surely all that is quite enough to build up within us a lion’s share of Mettle. Must we also be forced to put up with blood sucking insects in huge meddlesome clouds that follow us around, siphoning our lifeblood and potentially making us sick?!

Apparently, yes. This summer we do. Er. This fall, actually.

But anyway . . . where was I going with this . . . ? Oh yes . . . when we do get a Big Rain, many varieties of heirloom tomatoes have a tendency to crack and split. And once they do this bit of traitorous activity, they must be picked, consumed, and/or cooked into a sauce fairly quickly or they will further insult one by becoming rotten, full of little black bugs, and/or moldy. Practically overnight! Then all the hard work of growing these lovely orbs of juicy delight will be for naught.

So what do you do when you have a peck, a bushel, or a wheelbarrowload of cracked tomatoes on hand? I make thisfirst off, and of course I try to sock away as many jars of this as possible but I always nab a few first to make this:

My version of the Caprese salad is chopped, not sliced, in a bowl, not on a platter, and it has a few additions that delight my senses. My mosquito-bitten, wind-chapped, sun-burnt senses. Yours, too, I’ll warrant, no matter where you may be privileged to live.

I’ve always felt awestruck by traditional Caprese salads when I gaze at them at potlucks or in a nice cooking magazine. They are soooo lovely. Picturesque. Kinda fancy, too. But on the matter of eating one: how exactly is that accomplished, anyway? Those big slabs of tomatoes must be sliced up with a fork . . and if there is tomato skin involved, perhaps a knife . . . and I’m sorry, but when I fork a huge slab of mozzarella onto my plate, am I the only one who is thinking how many calories are in this much cheese??

I adore all the flavors in a traditional Caprese salad, but I think the actual eating of it is . . . awkward. And it’s not something that you can have a big ole’ bowlful in the ‘fridge at the ready, which is really what I need.I run in a fast crowd. That is to say, everybody living with me right now (this week, Anya and Ellie are here!) wants food fast. Every day they hope to have three meals. Every Stinkin’ Day.

So. Enter the chopped and augmented Caprese salad, center stage: Same basic ingredients, but all chopped up (though gently, these are very ripe tomatoes we’re using here!) and stirred together, and furthermore . . . instead of big pieces of basil everywhere (another dining dilemma . . . do you eat the basil leaves whole? Do you fold them neatly with your fork, or just stuff them into your gaping mouth?) I made up some pesto.

Soo easy . . . diced cheese + chopped tomatoes + pesto = YUM.

‘Tis the season: I have armloads of basil that will freeze soon, under the auspices of chilly autumn nights, and I’m making pesto for the freezer anyway, and I love it so.

So here’s my version of the Caprese salad . . it’s a chopped salad, and a Caprese salad, all in one. I was entirely inspired by this one, by the way, in the giving-credit-where-credit-is-due department. It’s always a confidence-builder to discover that Deb was thinking the same thing, generally, as I was.

Hopefully it doesn’t hurt her reputation too much. *wincing*

I make up enough for several days. It does get juicier the longer it hangs around.

Summertime, the only time when tomatoes are truly decent for eating, is the time for easy-peasy recipes like this one. Toss together these few fresh ingredients, slice up a loaf of fresh hearty bread, and dinner is ready. A tomato note: Choose tomatoes that are ripe, but not oozy-goozy overripe, or your salad will be, in actuality, a cold soup.

Now you publish this recipe! Just when my basil is hanging on the plants like limp dishrags and my main 2018 tomato crop is finito. We did make a bunch of pesto earlier, and our friend Ryan still has nice tomatoes (though not heirlooms) in his high tunnel and I can get fresh local mozzarella from an old friend at the Sunday morning market. So . . . maybe after I go to the market next time. PS: this totally sounds like something that both my wife and i will love. Now – any idea where I can get some fresh baked, crusty French-type bread?

Carol, you just made my day! Thank you for your sweet comment. I hope you’ve subscribed for email updates, and I would love it if you could share my blog with your like-minded friends. Thanks again!! *hugs*

Oh the mosquitoes this year…!!! I’ve actually had to forbid some of my smaller (tastier, tenderer…) children to play outside at times this fall. I let them out one day, hoping the wind was strong enough to discourage man-eating insects, under orders to COME INSIDE IF THE MOSQUITOES START BITING!!!… only to have them spend their evening counting bites. The youngest one had 100 bites and counting, just on his HEAD. I’ve never seen ears swell up with bug bites before! Did I scold them? Yes I did. You can’t NOT feel THAT many bites! We have reports of West Nile confirmations coming in too! (Should I be distraught? I haven’t done any research yet to know, haha!) I’m SO glad it’s getting cold out and we’re losing the little wretches.
On a cheerier note, I dearly love caprese anything, and that salad is perfect. All of the yum, none of the awkwardness. Thanks for sharing!

oh goodness, so true! I felt every mosquito bite that I saw on my grandies’ heads when they were staying with me. Luckily they like to play inside, too, but it was a shame to have to avoid the outdoors for so long. Luckily, the big change in the weather has taken care of the mosquitoes and the biting flies for the nonce, hooray!!

I love caprese salad and I love chopped salads and I love tomatoes and mozzarella And Pesto! So, I Know I will Love this Salad. And I like Gene’s idea. Home-baked crusty bread would be perfect with it. If I had seen this earlier I could have had it with a fresh peach for dessert. 🙂 PS West Nile is no joke. Grab those EOs and make thee some bug repellant. It does work. I made some.

Sounds like a great salad. We do not have such tomatoes available in this part of the world or at least I have not discovered them yet. We do have vine ripe tomatoes that will do. Growing a garden here is a very big challenge because the sun each day can bring temps. up into the 90’s and at night the thunder, lighting and very heavy downpours of the tropical storms makes it hard to protect anything outdoors. Now that Maria has added 5 duck to the farm to keep her 100 chickens company plants tend to be eaten before they can produce fruit. I do believe I will try this salad with “Farmers Market” produce this Saturday when the market is open.

I love the salad idea! I’ve been making it for potlucks with rice fusilli pasta, for my gluten free friends. It’s like a main dish/salad and it’s fine cold so it’s easy to make ahead. 😉 I do use the pesto from Costco, which is surely not as good as homemade, but it’s a good substitute.
We, too, enjoy the man in the blue box. We haven’t seen the women yet, so I can’t say there. Time will tell…

I somehow missed the blog post! You should know you know have a bookmarks subfolder entitled “AMY” on my newly meticulously organized bookmark system. Didn’t realize how many times I had saved the location of one of your wonderful recipes.

Amy, herself. :)

Amy is married to good husband Bryan, and Mum to six smart alecks, Amma to five cutie-pies, and follower of Jesus. She lives on a few windy acres in Nebraska, with a motley assortment of chickens, too many roosters, cats, dogs, and one goose named Lucy. Her garden is too big, her house is never clean, and she'd always rather be OUTSIDE.

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